


Break up With Your Boyfriend

by Ordinarily



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Break Up, Dehydration, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I Love You, Post-Break Up, Self Confidence, Self-Indulgent, Separation Anxiety, Slow Build, Stress, Sunsets, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29161668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ordinarily/pseuds/Ordinarily
Summary: Peter helps you through a breakup.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Reader, Peter Parker/You, peter parker/yn
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	Break up With Your Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

> Heya, just a quick AN! 
> 
> This is a little bit (a lot a bit) dramatic for something as minute as a breakup, especially in the Avengers universe, but I wrote the bulk of this while going through a breakup of my own and it was what I needed at the time. I didn't want to edit too much of it because I felt like it would be taking from my past self, so I left the heaviness in.
> 
> Everything in the bonus is present me finishing up what I started about a year ago :)

She hadn’t been able to move for days. Heartbreak weighed down heavy on her chest, pinning her to her bed where she did nothing but tremble for hours. Everything reminded her of him so she did nothing but stare at the four walls and ceiling, and tried to sleep when she managed to think of anything that wasn’t him.

She heard his voice over and over as he ended it, told her he wanted to be friends, told her she was so great. She saw his face, saw his smile, heard his laugh; felt the heartache with every single memory. 

They’d been… happy.

She wasn’t sure how it’d all gone so bad.

Her father, God bless Dad, had brought every meal to her bedside table, hadn’t chastised her when she didn’t touch it, and held her while she sobbed. But she could tell he was getting worried. She didn’t look at herself in the mirror when she got up twice a day to go to the bathroom, but she could imagine the dark circles beneath her eyes, the thinning of her body, the tangles in her hair.

Peter had had enough of her ignoring his texts and calls.

He climbed through her window, hopped around a little to figure out just how the lump in bed was positioned and finally kneeled down in front of her. 

She seemed to stare right through him.

Finally, he reached up to brush some of the hair out of her face and she tensed, recognition flooding her expression as her eyes met his.

He didn’t say anything and made room for himself on her bed, sitting at first and playing with her hair, and eventually scooting his way in under the covers. 

“I heard,” he started gently. “I would’ve come sooner if I knew.” He didn’t expect her to say anything and she didn’t, so he continued. “You are so incredible, you know that? You don’t deserve any of this. He doesn’t know what he lost, Y/N.”

Her eyes began to fill with tears so he stopped speaking for a little while and wrapped an arm around her, tucking her close to his body and under his chin. 

“You’re gonna be okay. It’s all gonna be okay.”

“It hurts so bad,” she whispered, erupting into sobs. 

He rubbed her head gently, and she cried until she fell asleep.

***

It was only around half an hour or so later when she woke up. Peter had stayed with her, planning out exactly how he was going to pull her out of this.

In their eleven years of friendship, Peter hadn’t seen her like this, not ever. Sure, he’d seen her distraught; deaths in the family, world disasters, that one fight they’d had senior year… but he’d never been in the bulk of it. Never felt her shaking form against his, never _seen_ the weight of the stress, never watched her breath get stuck in her throat. She’d always had time to pick herself back up (at least a little) before he was there.

Her pulse was quick, even while she was asleep. She broke out in sweats and shivered in intervals. Passed in and out of consciousness from malnourishment and dehydration. 

Peter wanted it to stop.

So when she woke up, really woke up, it seemed, he got up and grabbed her a glass of water from the empty kitchen. He couldn’t imagine how difficult it was for her dad to be out of the house all day.

“Y/N,” he said gently when he padded back into her room. “Can you drink this for me, please.”

She looked scared. 

“Not all of it,” he quickly added, even though he hoped she would. “Just a little bit, okay?”

She sat up, struggling to hold onto the glass steadily. 

He picked out some fresh clothes for her while she drank, closing his eyes as he rummaged through her underwear drawer and grabbed the first piece of cotton he touched.

She’d drank about half the water and moved to sink down beneath the covers again. Peter lifted them off of her, insisting that she change clothes. “I’m not asking for a shower, but you can’t stay in those,” he told her.

She didn’t say anything and after a few failed attempts at persuasion, he told her he’d only get back in bed with her if she changed. The thing about Y/N was that she tended to feel safer with others. Or… maybe it was just with him. Either way, he knew she didn’t like being alone.

She made some sort of grumbling noise at the back of her throat and he closed her bedroom door, telling her he’d be back in five minutes.

He rummaged through their kitchen for the second time, trying to figure out what she could actually stomach. She hadn’t told him anything but Peter noticed the whole sandwich on her nightstand. Y/N didn’t eat when she was stressed, mainly due to the stomach pains. But if she didn’t get food in her, things were going to go very bad very quickly.

He knocked on her door with a sleeve of saltines and a box of cookies and entered when there was no response. She was fully clothed, thankfully, and sitting on her bed. “I can’t see,” she said softly and Peter knew. 

He held her upright as she went in and out of consciousness, spots clouding her vision. She remembered this feeling from other moments in her life but the thought of feeling like she was going to die wasn’t any less scary. 

She stood up then and threw up in her garbage can.

Peter held her hair back. He forced her to brush her teeth while he swapped the trashbags and met her back in her room. 

“I hate this,” she told him and somehow that reassured him, because she was beginning to sound like herself again.

“Drink,” he ordered and she actually listened. 

He figured they could ease into food later.

“Alright,” he said softly, “let’s move to the living room, and I promise I’ll get off your case.”

He took her by the hand, leading her to the couch, draped a blanket over her and put on her favourite Disney movie.

“Peter,” she said softly as he began to turn away. “Don’t leave. Please.”

His heart shattered. “I'm not. Just going to get some snacks in case you get hungry later. I’ll be right back.”

As he walked stiffly back to her room to grab the boxes, his shoulders squared and jaw hardened, he swore to himself if that dick went near her again, he’d lose his temper.

***

Her father had ended up doing a double shift at the hospital so they’d ordered takeout, mainly for Peter, although Y/N had to admit: it smelled amazing. The broth was warm as it coated her throat and it made her feel less like her skin was made of broken glass.

They had started a game of _Sorry!_ but Y/N was having trouble following. Her focus was elsewhere and Peter knew it. 

He tried to be subtle about it. “How’s your soup?”

She nodded, meeting his gaze which was a rare occurrence today, and offered a small smile. 

Y/N tried to say it was good, comforting, tasty, anything, but her voice didn’t work. Her smile was growing stiff and she tried really hard not to think about how destroyed she felt. 

It didn’t work out.

Peter was over the board game and by her side in an instant, wrapping her up in a hug as she cried in his shoulder. “Hey, I know. I know. Do you wanna tell me about it?”

“It’s going to be messy,” she choked out.

“Messy is okay.”

And so she told him. 

***

Peter felt weird about it. He’d liked him when Y/N had introduced them, thought he was a great fit for her. He felt like he didn’t know that person anymore. 

It was getting late and he could tell she didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so he asked her to just wait, and he came back a few minutes later, suited up.

Immediately, she protested. “No. Peter. No. You’re not taking me anywhere. No.”

“Come on, it won’t be like last time,” he offered, unable to hold back laughter at the memories of her screams as they swung through midtown. “I just wanna show you something. I’ll be real gentle.”

She was about to refuse again when he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, climbing out of the window and swinging through the city. It was a good night for this and normally Peter would’ve let loose but he tried to keep the turbulence at a minimum for her.

She didn’t yell this time.

Finally, they reached his favourite lookout point. It was high enough to see a sunset where most people on the ground couldn’t. Now, the last remnants of orange sank beneath the skyline, leaving most of the world in navy darkness. The lights would turn on soon.

They sat in quietude and for the first time in a while, he saw Y/N genuinely smile. “It’s beautiful, Pete. Thank you for bringing me here.”

“That’s not what I wanted you to see,” he said softly, lifting the mask. He pointed out to the city as the remainder of the colour drained from the sky, and watched for her expression.

Slowly, lights all over the city began to turn on, gleaming and sparkling and all the rest. Skyscrapers lit up in increments and then all at once, shimmering along the horizon.

A gasp lodged itself in her throat. Y/N couldn’t find words. She took Peter’s hand instead, silently thanking every molecule on the planet for her life and for his. 

Peter was feeling a little inspired himself. No matter how many times he got to see it, he never grew tired of the world’s beauty. 

Finally, she spoke up again. “Thank you. For everything.”

“I got you.” He wrapped an arm around her, bringing her into his side. “And for the record, men ain’t shit.”

She laughed, pushing him gently with her cheek on his shoulder. “Except for you, you’re the shit.”

“I am the shit, aren’t I?”

Peter found himself playing with her hair before he realized he was doing it. She seemed happy again and he felt all the relief in the world.

“I wish we could see the stars from here.” She yawned.

“Camping this summer?” he suggested.

“Camping _with_ running water.”

“Aw, that’s no fun.”

“Hey, you smelled my BO today, right?”

“Yep, let’s do the running water thing.”

Y/N laughed again, genuinely it seemed, and Peter relished in it. “Shut up, Parker.”

He grinned and pressed his cheek against her head.

——

Bonus:

Months later, Peter showed up at her door with his hands in his pockets. Y/N’s father answer and ushered him in. They spoke for a while: about the chaos in the hospital, the chaos in the superhero world, the chaos of knowing somebody as loud and annoying and absolutely wonderful as Y/N.

The girl in question bounded down the hall, light radiating through every movement. “Hey! You ready?”

Peter forced his jaw back into place but the same could not be said for her father. 

“My darling sunshine,” he said and twirled her. “That dress, my love… You look stunning.”

“It’s a romper, Dad,” she grinned. “But thank you. I spent an hour on my make up so I'm glad it paid off. A twirl and everything."

“My, my, my, yes it did, Pumpkin Patch,” he said.

Peter grinned and handed her the jacket draped over the back of his chair. Y/N gave him a face that warned him not to even think of saying anything. Peter seemed nothing short of happy.

Y/N folded her jacket over her arms and looked back and forth between the two of them. “Are we ready?”

“I am if you are,” Peter said.

“Remind me whose house you’re going to again?”

“This kid Harry we met in Trig,” Peter told him.

Y/N’s dad snapped his fingers like he remembered. “Ah, yes, Harry, Harry… Alright, then, have her home by eleven, young man.”

“Dad!"

“I kid, I kid. Go, go have fun.” He shooed them out and pointed to his cheek, where Y/N planted a kiss on her way out the door.

“Goodbye, Dad,” she said in a tone of finality, and, finally, the door shut.

“Not a word,” Y/N said as they walked.

“But there are so many I want to say,” Peter replied, a shit-eating grin splitting his face.

“Eleven years and it never gets old. Man, I love your dad.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on, we’re gonna be late!” She grabbed his hand and ushered him down the hall.

“Actually, we’re very early!” Peter called. 

“I know, but I wanted an excuse to run!”

Peter laughed and ran along with her.

***

He was there. At the party.

Somehow Y/N should’ve maybe figured that he would be. She felt like she was over him, truly. She’d cried her eyes out, eaten her ice cream, shit-talked him to her heart’s content. 

But the sight of him; his grin as he leant down to better hear what the person next to him was saying.

She spun around to put her back to him, the colour drained from her face.

Peter’s jaw was clenched and his fists balled—and, suddenly, Y/N realized she had a whole other problem to deal with. Seeing Peter so brimmed with emotion somehow made it that much easier for her to deal with this whole ex thing.

The word felt uncomfortable in her head. Ex. It didn’t sit right with her.

Y/N grabbed her best friend’s hand, uncurling it first, and dragged him to the snack table. Peter didn’t tear his eyes away from him as they walked.

“Alright, what can I get you, my love?” she asked him.

Peter focused on her all at once. She called him that sometimes, but she also called MJ, Ned, and her father that.

“Is the punch spiked?” 

Y/N poured herself a cup and sipped. “I don’t think so.”

“Then I’ll take anything that is.”

“Peter,” she gasped and pushed a cup into his hand. “You will take this punch and like it.”

Peter’s smile was cocky. It reminded her of the ones from boys on the football team or soccer team or basketball team.

Their moment was interrupted by Ned and Michelle, each carrying a full bottle of hard liquor. “Hey!” they shouted.

“Hey!” Peter and Y/N shouted back.

“Where do you guys find all these bottles? You guys get a fake ID or something?”

“Oh, you think we brought these?” said MJ. “No chance. They’re from the kitchen.”

“Ah.”

Peter uncapped her bottle and poured directly into his cup, locking eyes with Y/N defiantly.

She narrowed her gaze at him and then he downed the whole thing.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Ned.

“Hey.”

Y/N recognized the voice as soon as he heard it and wanted to die a little bit on the spot.

The group turned to find him standing there awkwardly, eyes fixed on Y/N.

“Oh, yeah, got it,” Ned said, and filled his own plastic cup, then MJ’s. They tapped their cups together and chugged. Y/N had to hold back a snort.

“Hi,” she said as politely as she could, gaze shifting back to the boy in front of her.

“How are you? You look… great.”

Y/N thanked him, but behind his too-big head, were her three friends, mocking him with scrunched up faces and wide stances. Michelle stomped around like an Oompa Loompa and Y/N hid her smile behind her solo cup. She feigned sipping.

He looked like he was about to say something, but she cut him off. “It was really good seeing you. Sorta. But I’m gonna get back to my friends, now.”

She didn’t wait for his response and headed back over to her group, who’d moved a little ways away—emphasis on the little—to give them space.

Peter’s arm wrapped around her protectively as she joined them again and he looked over his shoulder, eyeing the boy. He met Peter’s eye and gave him a curt nod, before turning away.

“So? How was it?” Ned asked.

“Well, it would’ve been a lot cooler if I wasn’t laughing at you guys the whole time but it also would’ve been a hell of a lot worse.”

“I can’t help it,” MJ said. “I hate that guy’s face.”

Y/N let out a surprised chortle and Peter grinned. She really was a ray of sunshine and it was hard to remember her destitute state a few months ago. He never wanted to see her like that again.

Later in the night, and several drinks later, Peter found her on out on the balcony. “You having a smoke?”

She wrinkled her nose and he smiled knowingly. “Definitely not. I am, however, watching Loser One and Loser Two try to climb into a car.”

He followed her gaze to where her ex-boyfriend and a girl he didn't know were trying their hardest to climb into the backseat of a vehicle. They couldn’t seem to figure out just how to fit back there in their drunken state.

“Ah, God,” Peter said, disgust in his voice. “Boo!” he shouted and threw his cup, still full, off the ledge.

“Pete!” she chastised. “Littering, too.”

Peter shook his head and tried to get her attention off of the disturbing scene in the distance. “So, how’d it feel?”

She shrugged. “Didn't feel anything. It’s awesome.” She smiled up at him proudly. Peter had been there for all the work she’d done, all the effort it took to build herself back up.

She looked up at the night sky and Peter’s gaze followed. “Hey. Stars.”

“Would you look at that… Apparently, they’ve been hiding in the suburbs this whole time.”

“Does this mean no camping?” Peter asked.

“Nah,” she said. “Sleeping with you on the ground in a cold, dark forest, surrounded by wild animals and hundreds of bugs? Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“That’s a relief. Always knew you wanted to sleep with me,” he tacked on, because he just couldn’t help himself.

Y/N shoved him. “Shut up, asshole.”

Peter fought the urge to say “Make me.”

It took quite a bit to get him drunk, but he had to admit, he was a little tipsy and it was… nice. Once in a while.

Peter giggled at nothing. 

“Okay,” Y/N said. “I think we should get you home to May. Let’s go.” She caught him by the shoulder, trying to move him out.

“No, no,” he protested. “I’m okay. Swears."

“Did you just say ’swears’?”

Peter hiccupped.

“Let’s go,” she insisted.

Peter smiled down at her, all goofy grins and sparkling eyes. And then he kissed her because he wanted to and he’d been wanting to since forever.

It was short and gentle and Y/N wasn’t even really sure it’d happened by the time he pulled away.

“Alright, we can deal with that tomorrow when you’re sober,” she said.

“I know what I did,” he persisted and, then, in a whisper: “I’m not that drunk, Y/N.”

Her smile was small. Peter studied her. 

“I’m a little drunk,” he whispered.

Y/N grinned and Peter tripped on nothing. She steadied him, shaking her head. “I love you." It was so sincere, he stood up a little straight. It was coated in laughter but it was sincere.

“You do?”

“Mhm. Very much,” she said and he let her guide him out of that house and all the way back home.

“You really love me?”

“I do.”

“Like, really?”

“Yes, Pete.”

“Really, really, really? Like, a lot?”

“Peter."

***


End file.
